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Updated: June 2, 2025
"We will make of it an ornament," retorts the Judge, with mounting spirits. "Come with me," taking the youth's arm. "My son, call no human habitation a sty. These people are our brothers, and we will show them the kindness of brethren." A servant receives the horse, and Gingerford and his son cross the street. "Good evening, Friend Williams!
And as for Fessenden's being a fool and a pauper, he should turn out to be the son of some proud man, either Gingerford or Frisbie. But it is too late now. We acknowledge our fatal mistake. Who cares for the fortunes of a miserable negro family? Who cares to know the future of Mr. Williams, or of any of his race?
"There wouldn't any of you let me into your houses, neither!" "Wouldn't the people I sent you to let you in?" "No!" "Hear that, Stephen! your philanthropical Gingerford! And what did you do?" "I didn't do nothin', only laid down to die, I did." "But you didn't die, did you?" "No! This man he come along, and brought me here." "Here? to the niggers?" "Yes!
The Judge leaves everything and goes home with his coachman. Sure enough! there is the same smile he saw in the morning, frozen on the face of the corpse. "Gently and late death came to him!" says Gingerford. "Would we could all die as happy! There is no occasion to mourn, my good woman." "Bless the Lord, I don't mourn!" replied the old negress. "But I'm so brimful of thanks, I must cry for 't!
Williams," Gingerford saw his man approaching, and spoke loud enough for him to hear and understand, "are you accustomed to taking care of horses? I may find it necessary to employ some one before long." "Wal, yes, Sir; I'm tol'able handy about a stable," replied the negro. "Hollo, there!" called the man, somewhat sullenly, "drive that cow back here!
Williams, greatly relieved and gratified by the interview, hastened to relate to his family the good news. And the praises of Gingerford were on all their tongues, and in their prayers that night he was not forgotten. Three days after, the Judge's man was dismissed from his place, in consequence of difficulties originating in the affair of the cow.
His face grows purple, then pale, and he struggles with his neckcloth, which is choking him. He sees the tall form of Gingerford at the grave, and knows what it is to wish to murder a man. Were those two Christian neighbors quite alone, in this solitude of the dead, I fear one of them would soon be a fit subject for a coroner's inquest and an epitaph.
James had now an opportunity to test the truth of these observations. Was Mr. Williams convinced that Frisbie was a nice landlord and a fine man? By no means. But that Judge Gingerford was a fine man, and a charitable, he believed more firmly than ever.
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